For a second, I’m left speechless.Because this isn’t flashy.Or extravagant.Or performative.It’s thoughtful.He listened and he remembered.Years later.And somehow that unsettles me more than flowers or expensive gifts ever could.
“You told me you hate the ballet,” I remind him.
“I don’t hate the ballet.”
“You once called it emotionally aggressive twirling.”
“That feels like it was taken out of context.”
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it.And God, the way Hayden looks at me afterward.Like hearing me laugh is still one of his favorite things in the world.
“I had to stop dancing when I left for college,” I admit after a moment.“I haven’t really,” I shrug, “let myself think about it since then.”
“That’s a shame.”His voice is softer now.“Because you told me you loved it.”Not, you were good at it, but you loved it.The distinction lands hard.
I drag in a breath and swallow.“Yes,” I admit.“I did.”
Silence settles between us afterward, warm and flickering beneath candlelight and rain and wine.And sitting there beside Hayden while his fingers remain tangled with mine beneath the table, I feel something inside me begin to soften despite every instinct telling me not to.Because this man notices things.The small and fragile things.The pieces of me I don’t even realize I’ve handed him.And maybe that’s what makes loving Hayden so terrifying.He pays attention enough to matter.
“I would love to go to the ballet with you, Hayden.”
The next night arrives wrapped in snowfall.Not enough to stick yet.Just soft white flakes drifting down from the sky outside my apartment windows while I stand in front of my closet trying without much success not to feel nervous.
Which is ridiculous.I’ve known Hayden for most of my adult life.I’ve slept in his bed.Seen him furious.Seen him vulnerable.Seen him unravel me with a single look.
But somehow him taking me to the ballet feels more intimate than all of that.Because this isn’t about sex.This is about him remembering something important I used to love.
Nicole answers on the second ring when I FaceTime her.
“You look emotionally compromised already,” she jokes as a grin lifts her cheeks.
“I hate you.”
“No, you don’t.Show me the dress.”
I angle the phone toward the green silk dress draped across the bed.
Nicole gasps with a shake of her head.“Oh, you are so bringing that man to his knees.”
“You don’t think it’s too much?”
“Absolutely not.It’s stunning and only worthy of being worn by you.”
“That might be stretching it a bit, Nicole.”I laugh as I stare down at the dress.
“Men do not voluntarily take women to the ballet unless they’re either eighty years old or in love.And let me assure you, he’s absolutely in love with you.That was obvious at Gild.”
A laugh slips out before I can stop it, and then quiet panic settles in and takes over.Nicole’s expression softens as she notices.“You okay?”
The question catches me off guard enough that I hesitate.Because the truthful answer is, I honestly don’t know.
“I think…” I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear.“I think I’m trying not to want this too much.”
Nicole goes quiet for a second.Then, “Oof.”
“Not helpful.”I shake my head at her.
“You’re pulling away because you’re scared.”
